


come back home

by peachsneakers



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling, Depression, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Suicidal Thoughts, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, dukeceit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28891704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Janus needs Remus to come home.
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 9
Kudos: 113





	come back home

**Author's Note:**

> lyrics are from palaye royale "redeemer"
> 
> i promise i'm okay ♡ i've just had this song stuck in my head for days lmao

_And I'm here, just waiting for you to come home  
And I'm screaming all on my own  
_ _With a revolver and a note  
_ _Will you please pick up the phone?_

"Pick up, pick up, _please_ pick up," Janus mutters under his breath, his nose stuffed up and his eyes tear-swollen. The phone rings and rings in his ear, mocking him, until he finally jabs a finger at the stop button, ending the call with an indignant squeal that echoes in his ears. His gaze skids over the coffee table, over the tear-stained note with smeared ink and the-

The-

His mind shies away from labeling it. He doesn't want to label it. Doesn't want to admit he went out and bought it in the first place. No one should have sold it to him. He's not in his right mind. He hasn't _been_ in his right mind for a long time.

The gun sitting on the coffee table is proof enough of _that_.

He doesn't even know _why_ he wants to do it. Maybe his meds have stopped working. Maybe it's the familiar specter of seasonal depression. That's always a winner in the winter months. Maybe everything has just piled on top of him until all he can feel is breaking.

_And Remus won't pick up the fucking phone._

Tears slip down raw, reddened cheeks as he hits Remus's number again, his fingers shaking. He doesn't want to do it. He doesn't. _But he does._ The phone ringing in his ear feels like he's been side-swiped into his own personal hell. Maybe he's already done it. Maybe he's bleeding out on the floor, alone or for maximum pain, in Remus's arms. Maybe this is how he'll spend the rest of eternity. Maybe-

"Hello?"

For a moment, he almost thinks Remus's voice is part of his imagination.

"Remus?" He whispers into the receiver, his voice tear-clotted. "Remus, I-"

"Jan?" Remus's voice is sharp, alert. "Are you okay?"

" _No_ ," Janus manages to eke out. His throat tightens. "I'm- when are you coming home?"

"Now," Remus says, and his voice is sharper, more watchful. Janus can hear the jangle of car keys from Remus's side of the conversation, hear the low thrum of the motor as the car starts.

"Remus, you shouldn't talk on the phone when you're driving," Janus weakly tries to argue.

"I don't care," Remus says. "You need me."

"I'll be- I'll be fine," Janus says. The gun seems to _watch_ him. Like the baleful bore is Sauron's eye, waiting to destroy him.

"Liar," Remus says softly. More tears slip free, splashing down his cheeks. "I'll be there in five minutes, okay? Less than five if I hit the light green."

"Promise?" Janus asks in a tiny voice.

"Pinky swear," Remus says, and now his voice is soft and sticky, like a cloud of cotton candy at the state fair. Janus closes his burning eyes and basks in it, in the way that Remus always sounds so _soft_ when it comes to him, like maybe he's something precious to _someone_ , and that someone happens to be the best boyfriend Janus could ever hope to have.

Janus sits down on the floor, curled up and clinging to his phone, listening to Remus murmur a soothing stream of nonsense. In what feels like an eternity but in reality is a couple of minutes, he hears the doorknob turn, hears the key in the lock. 

"Oh jesus, Janus," Remus says weakly. Only then does Janus realize he forgot to hide the gun.

"It- it's not what it looks like," Janus says, but his voice is shaking and _he's_ shaking and he doesn't think Remus believes him. _He_ wouldn't believe him, why should Remus?

"When did you get a gun?" Remus asks, looking at the metal object on the coffee table like it's something poisonous.

"Last week," Janus whispers, hunched over and wrapping his arms around his knees. Remus sounds sharp again. Sharp and spiky and _hurt_ , and it makes Janus's throat ache, knowing he's done that to him. "I'm sorry."

"We're getting rid of that," Remus declares. "That- I'm sorry, Jan Jan, but we aren't keeping that. Not when-"

"I understand," Janus interrupts, not willing to hear the words that describe his own self-destruction. "I'm so sorry, Remus, I- I shouldn't have gotten it, I shouldn't-" His breathing hitches and his lungs burn.

"It's okay, Janus," Remus says, crouching down next to him and brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "I'm not mad. I'm scared- and worried- but I'm not mad."

"I don't wanna see it anymore," Janus whimpers, squeezing his eyelids tightly shut.

"Gimme a minute," Remus says. Janus hears him stand up and a muted clink as Remus picks up the gun.

"I'm putting it in my trunk for now," Remus says. "Be right back."

Janus opens his eyes as soon as the front door clicks shut and the coffee table, empty but for his suicide note, makes him sag with relief, shoulders trembling.

"I'm okay," he says to himself, willing himself to believe it. The door opens again and Remus stumbles inside. His eyes are red-rimmed.

"There we go," Remus declares. His voice is shaking just a little bit, and it makes Janus ache. Remus returns to his side, gathering Janus in his arms and pulling him into his lap.

"I'm making an emergency psych appointment for you, no take backs," Remus murmurs in his ear. Janus just nods, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming him. He yawns, unable to help himself, and Remus plants a kiss on his forehead, ruffling his hair.

"I love you so much," Remus whispers. "I couldn't bear to lose you."

"I know," Janus whispers back. "I'm so sorry. I love you, I just-"

"Depression is a bitch," Remus says, and Janus snorts.

"You can say that again," he says.

"Depression is a bitch," Remus repeats obediently, startling a laugh free. "Come on, my dapper noodle. Bed for you." He stands up, bringing Janus with him in a bridal carry, and Janus flings his arms around Remus's neck, hanging on tightly.

"When I'm in your arms, I'm home," Janus murmurs. Red stains Remus's cheeks.

"Janus, that's _incredibly_ gay," Remus says. Janus smiles tiredly and rests his head on Remus's shoulder.

'I know," he says. "That's why I said it." 

As Remus carries Janus into the bedroom, the suicide note lies forgotten on the coffee table.


End file.
